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Topic: Cute Pet Stories (Read 31533 times)

I'm not sure if this should go in the "Cute Pet Stories" thread... or if I should be starting a whole new "Twisted Pet Stories" thread.

My elder cat, Clawdius, is almost sixteen years old. That's fairly advanced in cat years, in my experience. I still, however, cannot ever be anywhere near my boy if I am not wearing a shirt or something to cover the top part of me. No, not even out of the shower--I have to grab for a robe. The reason? The poor little lad must have been taken from his mother too young--if he sees anything resembling a mammary gland, he will attempt to latch on. Yes, even now. He will leap onto the bathroom counter to do so. It's mind-boggling.

Really, Claw, isn't it time that you got over that little fixation of yours? I'm not naturally a cover-up sort of person, but you've made me one over the past sixteen years!!

We had a Siamese, Tina (a boy, we found out after he got used to the name), when I was younger. Due to my mother being very allergic, Tina was given to my aunt. Tina went on to live to the old age of 18 with my aunt. A few months before he died, a couple of friends and I were visiting my aunt. The first night, Tina was making the rounds, getting into everyones laps for pets and loving. As he was walking across the end table to get to the next lap, he sat down and meowed loudly at us. We paused in the conversation and all looked at him. He then reached over and swatted a framed photo of my grandma off the table. Grandma never liked cats. Tina must have known that. We busted up laughing.

I had forgotten about this until just now, even though it happens several times during the weekend when my son is here.

Havoc Kitty's father was a very feral cat, and I think Havoc may have some of that bred into him. For some reason, he is absolutely terrified of my son. When my son comes for his weekly visit, Havoc, will come running over to me, talking, and I have to pick him up so DS can give him the pets he wants from DS.

DS will take him from me, and he will stop purring, and hiss at him. If I take him back, he starts purring and enjoying pets again.

My avatar of Basement Cat has taken to sleeping on top of my dog's crate - only when my dog is in it though. It's a trick to make sure she is in position to escape when I let the dog out, but it's an incredibly CUTE trick.

Old Dog couldn't go up steps anymore. He was on a diet and liked to eat quickly. Young Dog liked to eat a bit and finish her dinner later, so she would take her full bowl upstairs to save it. She rarely spilled any kibble on the way up. Old Dog has passed away so the habit is no more.

First is Skeletor, my half Border Collie half Rottweiler (who now lives with my mom). Not only is he an amazing spooner (he has the softest neck fur in which to bury your face as you fall asleep). I got him from the humane society with my ex boyfriend just a couple of months before my dad died. When I would cry about my dad he would climb up in my lap, all 80lbs of him, and protect me from whatever was making me cry. He would lay across my lap, or nudge me in the corner where I was huddled, and would all but force me to hug him to cry it out. As I emerged from my cloud of naivety and blindness, Skeletor and I banded together. We hated ex, Skeletor and I (despite me still being with him), and I noticed a pattern emerging: Skeletor tended to only destroy things that belonged to ex, or the things that belonged to both of us but that ex used more. Then, THEN, one day, ex ordered a brand new pair of shoes and did everything he could to hide them from Skeletor just in case the pooch decided he wanted a chew toy. I laughed (and admittedly cried a little) when I discovered just how smart Skeletor was: he not only managed to open the lidded hamper, but knocked it over and pulled out all of the dirty clothes only to find his reward at the bottom: ex's brand new shoes. Yeah, there was no way ex could wear them, but I hugged Skeletor and fed him treats all day. He was on my side and was my best friend.

Then there is Banshee, the subject of my icon (she was yawning and it was adorable). Banshee sleeps in the bathtub. That's it, that's the cute story: we constantly find her snoozing in the bath tub, completely stretched out or even on her back.Evidence:

She also has a habit of "flea nibbling" my fingertips when she is nervous (read: lots of new people are around). Our friends she knows? No big deal, other people she doesn't? Find mom and nibble on her fingertips/nails. I secretly love it, especially when I take my hands away and she does everything she can to find them to keep nibbling. She'll eventually give up, but until then, I smile on the inside.

It somehow seems like such a dog thing to do, to chew on someone ELSE's fingernails when you're nervous...

My giant labrador? Picked up a fear of thunderstorms from my ex's small dog. Picked up the habit of cowering underneath furniture in response to the fear. Did not shrink down to small dog's size in order to be physically able to cower under said furniture.

It somehow seems like such a dog thing to do, to chew on someone ELSE's fingernails when you're nervous...

My giant labrador? Picked up a fear of thunderstorms from my ex's small dog. Picked up the habit of cowering underneath furniture in response to the fear. Did not shrink down to small dog's size in order to be physically able to cower under said furniture.

Haha, I never thought of it that way!

Of course not, your lab thinks he's a lapdog! I know all of my giant dogs think they are, not that I ever encouraged it in one way or another...

It somehow seems like such a dog thing to do, to chew on someone ELSE's fingernails when you're nervous...

My giant labrador? Picked up a fear of thunderstorms from my ex's small dog. Picked up the habit of cowering underneath furniture in response to the fear. Did not shrink down to small dog's size in order to be physically able to cower under said furniture.

Haha, I never thought of it that way!

Of course not, your lab thinks he's a lapdog! I know all of my giant dogs think they are, not that I ever encouraged it in one way or another...

A few weeks ago DH and I watched Disney's The Fox and the Hound, and noticed that our cat was sitting in front of the TV during the scene where the lady leaves Tod in the forest in the rain. He was intent on the screen, unmoving and ears back. We joked that he was mad at the lady for leaving Tod and identifying with the poor fox, but DH noticed that the next day the cat was unusually well-behaved and quiet. After that, our joke was that he was thinking, "Is that a thing? Do people do that? If I'd known that was an option, I'd have done things differently! Oh, no! I'll be good! I promise!"

This may have been augmented by the fact that our cat is an indoor-only cat in an area where most cats are outdoor-only. Perhaps he theorized that all of those cats he sees through the window were once dropped off in the forest in a rainstorm and now must fend for themselves!

The whole thing was short-lived, but there are days we're tempted to put that scene back on as a reminder.

Disclaimer: Believe me, we would never ever abandon our cat! We only joke about it because he doesn't understand English.

My BFF was adopted by a pregnant kitty a couple of months ago. Quite literally, she opened the front door, and Mama Cat walked in, sat down at the cat dish in the kitchen, and made herself at home. She's very sweet - probably isn't far out of kittenhood herself, but she's a big lovey. BFF made her a little den under an end table and Mama settled in, snuggling BFF every time she came out. She loved to be held, but she would fart if you picked her up too fast. (Bleah!)

Well, Mama had her kittens a couple weeks ago. Four eensy-beansy grey-black babies: Inky, Blinky, Pinky and Clyde. Squee! I got to hold them a little bit, but Mama is very protective. Now, she'll only snuggle you if all four kittens are safely in the den. If they're out, she's on watch, and every squeak they make she has to poke her head into your hand to make sure they aren't being smooshed, and when you put them back she has to sniff them all over, just in case. It's heart-meltingly sweet to watch.

First is Skeletor, my half Border Collie half Rottweiler (who now lives with my mom). Not only is he an amazing spooner (he has the softest neck fur in which to bury your face as you fall asleep). I got him from the humane society with my ex boyfriend just a couple of months before my dad died. When I would cry about my dad he would climb up in my lap, all 80lbs of him, and protect me from whatever was making me cry. He would lay across my lap, or nudge me in the corner where I was huddled, and would all but force me to hug him to cry it out. As I emerged from my cloud of naivety and blindness, Skeletor and I banded together. We hated ex, Skeletor and I (despite me still being with him), and I noticed a pattern emerging: Skeletor tended to only destroy things that belonged to ex, or the things that belonged to both of us but that ex used more. Then, THEN, one day, ex ordered a brand new pair of shoes and did everything he could to hide them from Skeletor just in case the pooch decided he wanted a chew toy. I laughed (and admittedly cried a little) when I discovered just how smart Skeletor was: he not only managed to open the lidded hamper, but knocked it over and pulled out all of the dirty clothes only to find his reward at the bottom: ex's brand new shoes. Yeah, there was no way ex could wear them, but I hugged Skeletor and fed him treats all day. He was on my side and was my best friend.

Then there is Banshee, the subject of my icon (she was yawning and it was adorable). Banshee sleeps in the bathtub. That's it, that's the cute story: we constantly find her snoozing in the bath tub, completely stretched out or even on her back.Evidence:

She also has a habit of "flea nibbling" my fingertips when she is nervous (read: lots of new people are around). Our friends she knows? No big deal, other people she doesn't? Find mom and nibble on her fingertips/nails. I secretly love it, especially when I take my hands away and she does everything she can to find them to keep nibbling. She'll eventually give up, but until then, I smile on the inside.

Our late kitty used to love lying in the cast iron bathtub on a hot day. When we moved to a house with a fiberglass one, she switched to the cool basement floor.

Our late kitty used to love lying in the cast iron bathtub on a hot day. When we moved to a house with a fiberglass one, she switched to the cool basement floor.

Her other favorite place to lay is on the tile in front of the door. Her brother, however, will full place his body over the AC vent and hog it. I've moved him before only to find his face fur (which was on the vent) is extremely cold to the touch. Then I call him a hog and thank him for sharing.